


you could have died today

by erintoknow



Series: Aria [21]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Near Death Experience, Nonbinary Character, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: The Void's criminal organization has been making inroads into Los Diablos for months now.Well, that changes today.
Relationships: Ortega/Sidestep (Fallen Hero)
Series: Aria [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1399939
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. You'll back off if you know what's good for you

**Author's Note:**

> [[5 out of 6 by Dessa]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WauMPwyW5s)

“Stop.” The voice cuts across the chaos, bringing everyone to a halt. A figure in featureless helmet and black power armor coalesces in the middle of what remains of the kitchen, tossing a figure in a black and teal skinsuit to the floor. E tightens eir grip on the pistol, keeping it trained on the masked woman crumpled at their feet. “You’ve lost this one, Marshal.”With eir free hand The Void signals to the three armored guards still standing. They fan out behind Charge, reloading their own guns.

“Void.” Charge snarls, “you’ll back off if you know what’s good for you, pendejo.” She shifts her feet, searching for an opening. Blood wells up from a cut on her cheek. The house is a mess, broken shelves spilling boxes and packing peanuts across the tiled floor. The windows blown out in the shockwave of an earlier explosion.

E gives a derisive chuckle. “You’re outnumbered and outmatched. Surrender or your friend here pays the price.”

Static electricity crawls up Charge’s arms as she balls her hands into fists. “If you hurt her–”

“I’m not fucking around, Marshal.” The Void’s arm doesn’t waver, finger firmly on the trigger.

Charge grits her teeth. She hesitated too long and she knows it. Void’s backup have finished reloading their own guns, all now pointed at her. Seconds stretch into eternity and then Charge steps back, raising her arms. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this.”

There’s the smallest exchange of nods between The Void and eir’s subordinates. “Bravado, Charge? Boring.”

Charge readies her fist in a punch as she leaps forwards, lightning crackling from her other hand to stun the man behind her. The Void yanks backwards, eir gunshot going wide into the wall. Charge turned out to move faster than e had given her credit for. As Charge collides with Void, e dissipates into smoke, her fist meeting only air. Before Charge can react the gunman coming up beside her brings the butt of his rifle down on the back of her head.

She hits the floor hard, but isn’t out for the count yet. Rolling to the side, a burst of rifle fire sends a trio of bullets into the floor where Charge was just laying. A sweep of the leg sends the offending rifleman to the floor and in grabbing range of Julia’s fist, with a jolt of lightning that sends the man into screaming convulsions, firing another round into his compatriot before dropping the gun from the recoil.

Charge scrambles to her feet as the wounded goon staggers against the wall, blood running down their now useless left arm. Charge’s grin is wide and animalistic. “Sorry yet?” She doesn’t give the other woman a chance to respond, punching her square in the face, followed up with a knee to the solar plexus as the woman goes down, dropping her pistol to the floor with a pained gasp.

All that’s left is to deal with The Void and – “Ari!” Charge hisses a pained wheeze as she moves to check on her K.O.’d companion. Void’s shot had been a near miss, an inch further down and… Charge bites off list of obscenities, intermixed between Spanish and English.

‘ _What the hell had she been thinking?_ ’ The repeating refrain running through Charge’s head. What on earth had possessed Sidestep to try and infiltrate The Void’s hideout on her own? A wave of cold fury washes over Charge. Partly at Sidestep, mostly at The Void.

“Ari? Ari speak to me.” A light slap on the face gets a pained groan in response. “Ay, Dios mio, you’re alive…” Charge’s sigh of relief is half choked-back sob. A quick check reveals she’s relatively intact, though her hands are tied behind her back. Shifting her over, Charge gets to work undoing the rope.

The movement of air behind her is all the warning The Void gives before opening fire. Charge pulls hard to the left, Sidestep’s body rudely dragged along for the ride as kitchen tiles burst into shards.

Once again The Void dissipates before Charge’s electrified fist can connect. Instead the kitchen cabinet hanging from the ceiling explodes in a shower of wood chips. “Fuck!” Charge shields her eyes a second too late to avoid getting blinded by wood dust.

Her groping hand finds the handle of a knife, large enough to be a butcher’s knife by the weight of it. Tensing up Charge waits for the inrush of air behind her again that signals The Void’s return. Spinning on her heel, she flings the knife in eir direction.

There’s a sharp intake of breath and the sound of a gun clattering to the floor. Charge clears the last of the dust from her still stinging eyes to find The Void clutching at the knife sticking out of eir chest, hands clasping against where the blade meets armor.

“I fucking warned you, pendejo.”

E starts laughing, “Was that really your best shot, Marshal?” E drops eir hands away from the blade. The butcher’s knife sticks awkwardly into eirs armor, barely even an inch, not enough to have actually pierced skin.

Charge’s manic grin doesn’t falter. “¡Veta a la mierda, culo!” Lighting jumps from her open palm to the butcher’s knife. With a scream, The Void drops to eir knees, convulsing before collapsing onto eir side, the knife clattering to the ground.

Silence settles over the wreckage and Charge takes a quick stock of the scattering of bodies. Is that really it? Everyone incapacitated? She’s not in the best shape herself admittedly. Ignoring the pained complaints of her own muscles Charge scoops Sidestep off the floor.

It’s only a matter of time before more of Void’s gangster’s arrive. Need to find somewhere safe to hole up and recharge.


	2. Mujer Tonta

There’s a throbbing dullness in your head, down the side of your neck and into your shoulders. The buzz of activity from the minds on the floor below don’t help the headache. A sting of panic strikes your chest but you manage the presence of mind to keep your eyes closed, not to move. Mask is missing – not great but there’s no time to freak out about it. Skinsuit’s still on – still intact, that’s what matters.

Fighting. There had been fighting and you had lost. Lost but still alive. Every time it happens feels like the weirdest miracle. Undeserved grace.

Your hands are behind your back, tied probably, and you’ve been pushed up against something hard, wooden? A wall? A flash of memory of Ortega’s furious face fills your memory and your heart sinks. If she went after you, and you’re still like this…? Still in danger.

The pain threatening to split your forehead in two doesn’t appreciate you straining to to get a feel for the nearby minds. Fortunately you don’t have to spread yourself far. The barely detectable hissing static that you’ve come to associate with Charge is only feet away. Slightly lower in height in comparison to you. Someone’s pacing a few feet away. Bored, checking rooms. Jittery, and starting to feel a black eye Ortega dished out earlier.

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted with a shut door. Small mercies then. The bored guard is on the other side. Tug at your hands, and yep, tied. But not to anything, just together. Hah. These guys could stand to take some notes from the Directive. Hair across your face is obscuring your vision but the pattern of light on the floor tells you a window is directly behind you, facing the sun.

West side of the house, second story. This isn’t the building you were in before. Okay. Okay. You can do this.

Charge is in a heap on a bed beside you, like she just collapsed. A trail of blood from a cut on her face runs down her cheekbone. God, she better be okay or you’ll never forgive yourself. Three figures combing downstairs, one outside the room by the door. Skimming their thoughts – you don’t dare do anything more intrusive then that – they’re searching the house. Shit. Two you don’t recognize from before, and Void doesn’t seem to be among them. Where did e go?

First thing’s first, if the guard comes in whatever noise your fight makes is going to screw you over. So how can you keep the her from noticing what’s going on?

Skim her thoughts; _itching for a cigarette but the boss won’t let anyone smoke on the job. Sick of waiting for backup, why can’t we just just shoot them now? Fuck can’t wait to be done here, no bar is safe_ –

Can you do something to the guard like you did to the nanovores last year? But no, you’ve got a killer headache fogging your brain and you kind of need to be able to focus on other things to escape. Well. What do you know for sure that you can do? Not much; unravel recent memories, tweak perceptions to get an edge in a fight…

Maybe…?

It feels like a house of cards, assembled via puppeteer strings, slowly coaxing the guard into fantasy; getting hammered at the bar. Encouraging her to ignore the input from her ears and eyes. Trapped in a daydream.

Huh.

How did you never think to try something like that before? No idea exactly how secure your little mind trick is but there’s only one way to test it. Can you repeat the trick on the trio below? Maybe if the migraine wasn’t already lancing pain through your temples and screwing with your focus.

Fingers search the wall behind you, the corner edge of the windowsill gives you the leverage to work your hands free. Each involuntary grunt or shuffling or your feet sends your heart racing as you wait for the guard to snap out of it but the daydream holds. The knot is basic, already partially undone.

You shake your hands loose, bring them around in front of you to rub at your wrists. Wrap up the rope and stick it in a utility belt pocket, might come in handy. Clamping down on the anxiety threatening to well up you step towards Ortega. “Charge?” You whisper.

She doesn’t respond. Something’s wrong here. There’s the fear again – no! Not now. Ortega is breathing. Which means she’s alive. A little cut up, a little bruised, but alive. You already screwed up once, getting you both into this mess. All that matters now is getting you both out.

She’s not restrained which is weird. You were. No one’s _ever_ considered you the bigger threat before. “Charge?” You hiss at her, “W–wake up, idiota.” At a loss for options you reach in and take her hand, squeezing it.

Wait –

Why is her hand bleeding…?

The emitters –

You turn her hand over in your fingers, follow the red line up to the emitter, the synth skin ringed in red around the emitter. “Fuck.” You hiss under your breath, then take a sharp breath. It takes a pretty hard fight these days to damage the synth skin around her mods like that.

Gently rub the palm of her hand, leaving a smear of blood across her skin and your glove. The casing itself doesn’t look cracked. That’s good. Reach across her to check the other hand, that one looks to be fine. Okay. Okay, just the one then.

Ortega’s pushed herself too far once again it seems. “Mujer tonta…” Did she rush in after you? Must not have done a half-bad job if four armed gangsters would rather wait around for back up then storm in here and shoot you both while you were out.

Need to get Ortega back on her feet if the two of you are getting out of here alive. And you need to do it now. If she collapsed like this, her mods probably ran out of juice after a fight. Pat down your belt and breath a sigh of relief you still have your tools. Working with Ortega over the years, you’ve taken to carrying around some truly bizarre odds and ends.

There’s an outlet not too far from the bed, that’s good. This can work. Trace the power cord from the outlet up to the table lamp sitting by the bed. Unplugging the lamp first, you pull out a knife from your belt and find the end where the cord goes into the lamp.

It takes a bit of force but eventually the blade snipes clean through. Peeling back the plastic end to expose the copper wiring you hold the cord in one hand as you gently tilt Ortega onto her side. Brush her braid aside to expose the port at the base of her neck, rip a few pieces of electrical tape should secure the wire in place.

Chewing your cheek, you thumb the plug of the power cord. Either this works or you blow a fuse. Only one way to find out.

There’s some sparks as you wiggle the plug back in, holding your breath.

She’s plugged in.

Nothing happens.

Air escapes your lungs in a sigh of relief. No fires, no blown fuses, no electrocuted Ortega. It’s going to take time for her to recover. Her modwork involves her spine, right? Some sort of childhood accident she doesn’t like to talk about, but it’s what set her down the path to the Rangers. You’ve never pushed the issue. Don’t want to encourage similar curiosity in your own ‘childhood.’

Is she actually awake right now? Paralyzed by her mods shutting down to conserve power for vital functions? You wrap your arms around yourself. Hope that’s not right. Hope she’s actually just out of it.

Hope she wakes up soon.


	3. Not in your city

You slam the wall with your fist as the armored truck containing The Void tears away, throwing up dust in the air. “No! I–I’m not letting them– letting them escape!” You storm over to where Ortega is leaning against a metal crate, breathing hard. “Give me y–your keys.”

She looks at you like you’ve lost it. “For my bike? What? Ari– Ari, no, it’s over. They’re out of the city. If they come back we’ll be ready but–”

You ball your hands into fists, “Someone like _that_ can’t get away with this.” Still can’t get the sight out of your head. Almost threw up right in your mask. The Void has been making inroads into Los Diablos for months, eating away gang territory from the natives but always evading the fight whenever the Rangers came to call.

Then came an anonymous tip: The factory was supposed to be a meat processing plant. Suppose it was, in a sick twist of the word. A chop shop. Organ-legging and ‘second-hand’ mods. They pop up from time to time, but they’re usually small back-alley operations and don’t last long.

Not an entire factory.

The Farm isn’t something you worry about too much these days. Sometimes you can almost forget. You’re careful to keep yourself covered, of course, avoid big events, but the visceral reality of the place… that wasn’t something you had thought about in a long time. It had never really registered as anything terrible back then, it was just how life was.

You feel differently now.

You don’t break eye contact with Ortega, try to keep your whole body from shaking. The Void isn’t getting away with this. Not in your city. Not anywhere.

Can see the mental calculation play out in Ortega’s head, the way her eyes twitch between you and the motorcycle. “Alright,” she says, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. “But I’m coming with you.”


	4. wake the fuck up already

You slide to the floor, against the bed. How long until Ortega wakes up? How long until Void’s backup arrives? Patting yourself down you take stock of your supplies. No gun, but you have a knife, some electrical tape and wire, some gaff bandages, the rope you’d been tied with, a chocolate granola bar, a bottle of aspirin.

You take a double dose of the aspirin and massage your hands. The fucker zoning out in the hallway on the other side of the door is still deep in her daydream of getting drunk and kissing men. The three goons on the floor below are getting impatient.

Hand to your forehead, you pick one of the men to work on. Maybe you can get all three of trapped in their heads. It’s slow work, pushing forward certain thoughts and sliding away others – and then one of the other two says something and it all collapses like a sand castle to the sea.

Fuck.

Glancing at Charge you toy with the hilt of the knife. “Wake up, lazy-ass…”

One of the men downstairs calls for their compatriot up here in the hallway. When she doesn’t respond he repeats himself, louder, “Yo! Martina! Get the fuck down here!” Are they leaving? You definitely don’t want more of them coming up here.

With a mental nudge, Martina jerks awake and hurries downstairs. They’re leaving. Thank fucking god. Push your knife back in the sheath, you rest your hand on the bedside table. You can hangout here with Charge however long that it takes to get her back on her feet, and then it’s straight home. Taking out The Void isn’t worth Ortega’s life. Never should have let her come with you. If anything happens to her… you won’t be able to live with yourself.

The table rocks under your hand as you pull yourself up and you can see it happen in slow motion: the lamp with it’s severed cord, sitting a little too precariously on the edge, jostles, tips –

Reflexively your hand darts out to catch it by the top of the base, only know you’re unbalanced, teetering dangerously. You twist to the side, and thump hard against the floor, lamp clutched in your hands.

Below you, all four goons freeze.

Well, _fuck_.

Carefully, gently, you put the lamp down on the floor and get to your feet again. They’re back into the house – one last check over. Guess you’re buying time with a fistfight then. What are the odds the door creeks if you open it? Too high.

You take position next to the doorway, focused fully on tracking the four minds as they fan out through the house again. A different person comes upstairs this time. A man, focused, on alert now. Immediately zeros in on your door: it’s the only one unopened. Gun cradled to his shoulder, pointing at the ceiling; you can watch the door knob turn, the door swing back into the room.

Don’t give him a chance to react.

You swing around, punching him square in the throat, following up with a hand yanking the rifle out of his hands. He cries out in surprise, setting the other three running but he’s too slow to defend himself. You crack his head against the doorframe and kick him backwards against the wall.

As the first bastard rushes up the steps, you pull the knife out of your belt and fling it down the hallway. You’re rewarded with a scream and the sound of bodies crashing backwards on top of each other.

It’s enough time to grab the dropped rifle and take up position on one knee, sighting the top of the staircase. The next dome that pokes over the edge, you fire a warning shot and it quickly vanishes.

You follow their thoughts as the three of them discuss options. Grenades? No, not with their teammate up there. You have a sigh of relief at that. One of them suggests finding where in the house is under the hallway and shooting through the ceiling. That gets tossed out, again thanks to your accidental hostage.

The third, the one you knifed, suggest radioing for backup. That gets universal agreement. You flex your hand, steady the grip on the rifle. Stand-off it is, then. “Com’on Sparkles…” You whisper under your breath, “wake the fuck up already.”

* * *

Seconds drag into minutes drag into years. One of them is on guard at the base of the stairs, gun ready in case you try to come down. The other two dress the knife room in the kitchen. If you press now you might get the drop on them.

Reaching out telepathically again, you brush the thoughts of the one guarding the stairs. How long have you been standing here? Isn’t that gun heavy? Nothing’s happening, why not take a breather? Just for a second, that’s all. No harm in that.

He falters, lowers his gun. You dive to the floor, sliding to the top of the stairs, and firing the rifle. The guy at the bottom screams and drops his gun as he collapses, his shot leg giving out under him.

The two in the kitchen are scrambling for their weapons as you dash down the stairs, pausing only to kick the one downed guy in the face to make sure he’s out. Squeeze the trigger and you manage to re-wing the guy you’d already knifed, causing him to drop his pistol.

The woman is the last one standing, grabbing the knife off the kitchen counter, your knife. You take aim only to find the magazine empty as you press the trigger. Hissing, you use the body of the gun as a shield as your opponent slashes at you. Catching the blade against the rifle, you twist and shove back against her, throwing the gun at her face before dropping to sweep her feet. She falls backwards, hitting her head against the edge of the counter. Out for the count.

Now where’s the other guy…?

A gunshot rings out and you throw yourself to the floor before twisting around to find the source. Knife’d guy, now sporting a second wound staining his shoulder curses, dropping the pistol from his shaking hand. He tries to back up as you spring towards him, punching him first in chest and then a follow up in the face, knocking him back against the wall, where he slowly slumps to the floor.

You breath hard, checking for any other mental presences. Everyone’s either out cold or in no condition to fight anymore. Someone’s frantic laughter reaches your ears and you almost start panicking again before you realize it’s your own voice.

You did it.

You’re okay.

Ortega’s okay.


	5. take stock

How long until Void and/or eir backup hit the house? You can’t move Ortega just yet. Not in your condition. Which means more waiting. Might as well keep busy.

After retrieving your knife, you gather the four goons you bested, dragging them into the downstairs laundry closet and laying them out. Lost your first aid kit sometime around day four of the chase. Losing blood but you do what you can with the first-aid kit knife’d guy was carrying. Will probably live if they see a hospital. Until then, locked into the laundry room they go. Can’t risk any surprise attacks. Jam a chair under the doorknob for good measure.

You came out of that fight shockingly well. A cut along your left wrist, from your own knife probably, and what feels like some probable bruising scattered across your body.

What do you have in weaponry? Your knife, of course. One six-shot pistol with one extra clip. One (still) functioning 24-round rifle with enough ammo for one and a half reloads. Oh, and one grenade.


	6. expensive

You’re in the middle of knocking over a free-standing cabinet to block the back door when you pick up the truck of people nearing the house. Seven this time. The Void’s among them.

Okay.

Okay. You can do this.

Taking aim from a second story window overlooking the front of the house, you don’t give them a chance to fan out as they unload. You fire freely on the truck, they’re sent scrambling for cover. Might have hit one or two but it feels like too much to hope for.

Return fire starts echoing back, shattering what remains of the glass in the window and you pull back. No point trying to hold the window, three of them have already dashed inside.

One last gift for the road though – you pull the pin on the grenade and toss it out the window. The explosion as the truck is blown to shreds rattles the window frame and somebody screams.

The first two up the stairway get driven back as you shoot a burst over their heads. Missed them completely, shit. You can pick up four minds gathering in the living room below, discussing their options. Where’s The Void then?

You feel the shift in the air behind you just in time to throw yourself against the wall. The Void fires at where you had just been standing. You twist around and make a grab for eir gun. Fingers scrabble for purchase against the smooth finish of the armor. A knee meets your chest, knocking you back and gasping for air.

“I had been willing to cut and run.” The Void swings for your face with the but of eir pistol. You narrowly dodge backwards. “Cost of business, and all that.” Eir other hand hits your ribcage sending you against the wall. “But you are persistent.” You catch the punch this time in your hand, twisting eir hand. “Worse, you are _expensive_.” A knee to your gut sends you reeling backwards, falling to the floor and gasping for breath.

You can’t match The Void in the hallway like this. There’s no room to maneuver and e’s got you beat on sheer strength. E raises eir gun and you can feel time slow down. Just enough to push yourself out of the line of fire, wooden shrapnel cutting your ear as the bullet misses. You push yourself to your feet, uppercutting em on the chin of eir helmet. The Void blocks your follow up punch with eir arm, while your knee strike against eir solar plexus bounces against the plates of eir armor.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee, you move in under their guard trying to find a weak point in plating. E dissolves into smoke before you, sending you crashing to floor. E tsks. “Hope you didn’t pay too much for the halloween costume. Think you got cheated, ginger.”

“And you’re– you’re over c–compensating for something…” You push yourself up on your elbows, watching for the first sign on movement. How many bullets are you going to dodge today?

The Void steadies eir pistol. “Nah.”

That’s when Ortega punches em in the back of the head. A follow up strike sends The Void toppling forward and you have to roll to the side up against the wall to avoid being hit.

You could cry. “Oh my god, Ortega, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” She smiles at you, unsteady on her feet. You let her pull you up, delivering a hard kick in The Void’s stomach for good measure. Ortega doesn’t comment. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know – how–how long was I out? This is round two for me.”

“Then I guess we’re on round four over all. ¡Ay Dios mio, Ari! Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I…” You shake your head. “Can we talk about this later? There’s still more of them.”

You let Ortega pull you into a hug. She flashes you a manic grin. “Then let’s make them regret it.”


	7. now what?

Neither one of you is certain about what to do next.

You took it upon yourself to restrain everyone, but there’s not nearly enough rope on hand for eleven people. Had to resort to using the cords from the window blinds.

Technically not even Ortega is authorized to be conducting arrests in a foreign country. Can’t exactly load everyone up in a truck and cart them back to Los Diablos either. It’d be a hard case to make in court. Also you kind of blew up said truck.

So the compromise; call the police to pick up and treat the ten underlings but take The Void back with you to Los Diablos where you can absolutely pin em with charges. There’s even one good jeep that’s still mostly working – only partially shot up.

The Void is a lot less imposing stripped of eir armor. An unadorned grey skinsuit and a lot more frail looking than their augmented strength would possess. The two pairs of handcuffs Ortega has come in handy here. One to restrain em hands being eir back, one to cuff them to the car itself. How The Void’s boost works exactly is a little unclear, but going off today, you feel pretty confident e won’t be able to just teleport out of the car.

Once the police have been notified the two of you load into the jeep. Ortega takes driver while you sit in the back to keep an eye on The Void. And then there’s nothing left but the long, _long_ , drive home.


	8. assessment

You chew your cheek, watching the scenery past by on the highway. Getting home will be a trip but it shouldn’t take _as_ long as the trip out, perversely all the shootouts and high speed chases added up to a lot of action over not a lot of distance. “Can y–you put on the radio?”

“I–” Ortega stops herself. “You know what, no, we need to talk first.”

You tense up. Uh oh.

“What were you thinking, Ari? Jumping in there alone? We almost both didn’t make it out.”

You hunch your shoulders up, crossing your arms. “I didn’t– I didn’t ask you to come after me.”

“What are you talking about?” Ortega lets out an exasperated sigh. “We’re partners, of course I’m coming after you. You’re lucky I did, you–” You can see Ortega’s knuckles whiten as she grips the steering wheel. “You could have died today.”

“Then I would have deserved it.”

“Ari!”

“ _You_ could have died today!” You shout back, digging your fingernails into your sides. “You have any– have any idea of how scared I was?”

“Ari– ugh! That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

“It’s n–not the same thing.”

“What!?” Ortega snorts, “Yes it is!”

“Oh someone gag with me a spoon already, this is more painful than electrocution.”

You twist in your seat to glare at Void, slumped over in the seat, rolling eir eyes. “You can shut the fuck up.”

Ortega glances through the rear-view mirror. “Do I need to pull over?”

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account–”

You grit your teeth, keeping your focus on the prisoner.“I’ve got it handled, Charge.”

“–I’ve been missing out on my soaps.” The Void watches you intently, one edge of eir mouth turned up in a cruel smirk. “You know…”

“Mrm.”

“I’ve got a good memory for faces. I bet with the right artist I could see to it your pretty little mug is plastered on every city block from here to Mexico City.”

You narrow your eyes, “The only thing you’re going to do, Void, is rot in prison for the rest of your life.”

“Excuse me, it’s _The_ Void, the definite article is important.” E snickers. “And prison? I’m not scared of a little prison, carrot top. Where do you think I got all my best men?”

“Shut up or I’ll _make_ you shut up.” You hiss.

“Ari…” Ortega’s voice is strained, warning, “Don’t listen to em, e’s just trying to get under your skin.”

The Void’s laugh is acidic. “It’ll be a nice little vacation. And then I’ll be back. Next time I’ll know who to bribe.”

Your voice is low, tense.“There’s no bribe big enough to get away with a human chop shop.” The Void’s complete lack of concern over their situation is infuriating. Even worse that it’s hard to refute. How do you meaningfully hold someone long term that can teleport?

“Oh, you’ll find everyone has a price, ‘Ari’ was it? Even you, even the Marshal here.”

“Not me. Not for– not for this.” You grind your teeth.

E watches you, smirking a little more broadly now. “Don’t care to have the mask removed, gringa? So I take the term ‘human capital’ a little more literally than others; it’s a good business.”

“Just gag em, Ari.” Ortega calls back to you. “Nothing e has to say is worth listening to.”

“Really now, Marshal? That’s hurtful.” The Void scoffs.

You shake your head, “I d–don’t have anything back here.”

E keeps talking, ignoring the two of you. “You know… the Marshal’s mods, that’s a rare set-up. But I bet I could find a buyer or two. Someone sadistic enough to inflict that another person is always good to know in my line of work.”

E needs to shut the fuck up already. You lean over, slapping em across the face. “Stop talking.”

The Void blinks, surprised, before bursting into laughter. “Is this the infamous American brutality? How precious.”

“Stop talking already.”

“Now telepaths…” E eyes you appraisingly and you can feel your stomach churn, that’s not a look you’ve been subjected to in a long time. “A lot of mystique over that ability. Always a market for hopeful idiots thinking a few inches of telepath nerve will open their third eye.” The Void rolls eir eyes. “CEOs hoping for an edge in negotiations… the dreams are as endless as their wallets. We’ll leave out the stutter of course; don’t want the buyers to think the source material is defective. As the rest of you? Well–”

“Don’t say another goddamn f–f–fucking word.” The stupid smug bastard is grinning broadly at you now. Fucking pondsucking bastard. E lost. E lost and should have the grace to stay goddamn quiet.

“I’m pulling over…” Ortega’s voice barely registers.

The Void doesn’t stop smiling. “What’s the matter? It’s no different than being an organ donor. “Former hero” should really up the resale value. It won’t even hurt at that point, you know, breaking you down into parts–”

You scream, lunging for em. The Void’s insufferable smirk freezes on eir’s face. Can barely hear Ortega calling you from a million miles away, and then something on your shoulders drags you away from em.

Ortega pulls you back, out of the car, and your hand lets go of the knife, tugging the handle slightly. An upwelling of blood pools around the blade buried in The Void’s neck. “Ari, madre deDios, Ari, speak to me.”

You stare at the knife in The Void’s throat.

That’s your knife.

Oh.

Your legs give out underneath you and Ortega staggers to hold you up. “Julia–” your voice cracks.

Arms wrap around you as the two of you sink to the asphalt. “Ari– Ari, I’m sorry. I should have pulled over sooner.”

“I–I–I–I… e wouldn’t– e wouldn’t shut up.”

“Ari, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

E isn’t dead yet. You can feel it. Feel eir thoughts. Shocked, pained, and under it an amusement at the situation that makes you sick to your stomach.

You blink tears out your eyes, clutching at Ortega’s hands around you. You let em get under your skin, let your emotions get the better of you, acted without thinking. In a fight you do whatever it takes to win, but even there you try to incapacitate over kill and you certainly don’t kill in cold blood. Not since– _Ariadne_ has never– “I’m sorry.” You mumble. This doesn’t feel real. This is just another bad dream, right? “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”


	9. go home

The two of you sit there as the sun sets across the horizon. Until only the halo of light bending around the curve of the earth remains. Ortega pats you on the shoulder, leaves you against the car while she… takes care of The Void’s body.

Doing what exactly, you don’t know. You don’t ask. And never have you been so grateful to be unable to read her mind.

When Julia’s ready to go again, you sit up front with her, collapsed against her shoulder. The two of you drive in silence the rest of the way home.


End file.
